


let me be the love interest to your main character

by edgaristheoneinthehole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi, Ragehappy Secret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:45:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgaristheoneinthehole/pseuds/edgaristheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at a coffee shop wasn’t that bad, Ray thought. He got to meet interesting people, spend time with his coworkers and playing with his DS when the cafe was empty enough was allowed (as long as his boss didn’t notice, though, in Ray’s defence, the boss never said that it wasn’t allowed). Good enough for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me be the love interest to your main character

**Author's Note:**

> forgot to post this oops  
> [tumblr link](http://ragehappysecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/105552954468)

Ray had never minded early mornings; not while he studied at school, waking up at six in the morning (or even earlier) to play video games or do homework he had been too preoccupied to do the night before. Not during the short period he’d tried out college.  _Definitely_  not with his current job, working at a small coffee shop (there might have been a certain name for it but, honestly, Ray couldn’t tell the difference between hipster coffee shops, underground coffee shops and ‘normal’ coffee shops).

For a cafe of such small dimensions, they got a fairly large amount of customers, though. Half of their patrons were college kids, both older and younger than Ray but mostly around his age, while the other half were parents, getting their shot of caffeine before a big game or a trip to the library (from what Ray understood, listening to their chatter, the library held weekly readings for small children and they got  _rowdy,_ Ray would never want to even  _walk_  in that direction, if such a thing was ongoing). The college kids tended to come in the mornings and during the lunch rush while the parents came by on evenings and mid-mornings on the weekends.

So Ray didn’t even raise his head from his DS when he heard the obnoxious doorbell  _ding,_ informing the whole coffee shop (which was empty, Ray its only occupant, it being ten in the morning on a Sunday) of its new arrival. It was probably just Griffon and the adorable little kid she babysat again, coming to take their usual: a small Peppermint Hot Chocolate (whipped cream, whole milk) and a large Caramel Frappuccino Blended Coffee (no whipped cream, two percent milk). He was already moving towards the machines when an unfamiliar voice called, “Didn’t know baristas were telepaths now.”

Ray froze and slowly turned around, hiding his DS behind his back (what if his boss  _found out_?) and laughed nervously, a practised sentence falling from his lips as he tried to size the other on a scale of ‘ _how fired was Ray_ ’, “Welcome to Roosa Coffee Shop, what would you like to order today, sir?”

The other man, around Ray’s age, smiled, pulling his beanie further down, covering his (brown? red?) hair, and Ray noticed a few tattoos (or maybe just one very big one? it was hard to tell) as the hands move back to his sides, “Iced Americano, biggest cup you have for it, thanks.”

Ray nodded, murmuring a memorized price (oh how he  _loved_  being alone at the cafe, not having to raise his voice so everyone would hear him), nodding towards a random table after the man had paid, telling him to sit down while Ray “made magic happen”. He would have been surprised when the other grinned, muttering about how that usually happened in the bedroom, had it not been used hundreds of times by the plentiful college kids that came regularly and heard Ray say that probably enough to get on their nerves.

After Ray got the costumer his Americano, he went back to playing on his DS and registered the sound of the bell ringing in the distance. Looking up confirmed that he was alone once more.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and Ray went back to playing on his DS until Griffon  _did_  come by.

 

* * *

 

The second time Ray met the man, he wasn’t alone, neither behind the counter or in the cafe. Ryan, a man Ray was pretty certain was getting his second (third? Ray just knew it wasn’t first) degree, the coworker Ray saw the least, as he tended to take early morning and late night shifts. Ray liked his slightly ( _extremely_ ) sleep-deprived fellow barista though. Mostly because the guy was an  _expert_  in latte art and could make a  _mean_ rose. Ray could do them too, yes, but he’d never be the master that Ryan seemed to be (he could do  _multiple colours_ ).

“Hello,” the man smiled, glancing around, after Ray asked his memorized greeting, “no DS this time?”

Ray looked briefly at Ryan but he seemed to pay no one attention, humming as he made an order Ray’d winced at the thought of making, the veteran barista was the best and came to the rescue though, “Yeah, Link can’t brew coffee apparently. Who knew?”

The man lit up at the name, one of his hands raising so Ray could see it easier and, oh, Ray’d been right. Those  _had_  been tattoos. Link and Ganondorf on the back and front of his forearm (but which side was  _front_  and which was  _back_ of the hand?). “Good taste.”

The customer smiled, ordering an Iced Americano again and Ray couldn’t resist saying, “One iced Americano for the iced Americano, coming right up.” The man, who didn’t  _seem_  all that cold now but Ray had  _seen_  him shiver when he entered, laughed and left to find a table after paying, just as he had last time.

Ray really needed to get a name (wait, wasn’t it his  _job_  to get a name? Fuck, he’d been too distracted).

 

* * *

 

Third time the customer came around Ray decided to dub him Zelda and his friends, the ones he came to the cafe with that time (a redhaired woman and a British man) were dubbed Ganondorf and Link, respectively.

It was one of the fun parts of his job, assigning a name to those he didn’t know. Ryan had once been Raiden, because he looked big enough that crushing Ray would be possible, if he wanted to (which Ray was certain he didn’t but, fuck, what if he  _did_? Ray  _did_  tend to give him the hard orders).

Ganondorf and Link went to sit down at a table, one that Zelda pointed out (wasn’t that the table he’d sat on since the first time, the one Ray pointed to?), chatting amongst themselves, while Zelda walked towards the queue and Ray found himself getting the cold water ready and  tamping down coffee while waiting for Ryan to tell him the next order.

“That will be a large Iced Americano, a medium Eggnog Latte with whole milk and a large Cappuccino with two percent milk?” Ryan asked for confirmation and Zelda nodded, leaving to sit down without offering his name after paying, something that Ryan huffed but didn’t complain at. Lucky bastard had near perfect memory. Ray sometimes still got stuck on names even after staring at the cup just moments before, the reason he assigned nicknames to most who came by often.

“Ray, do you-” Ryan turned around and blinked, baffled, “that is the fastest I’ve seen anyone make an Iced Americano in my life.”

Ray avoided Ryan’s eyes.

(After all three drinks were done, Ryan forced Ray to take the drinks to the three friends, as he was busy at the register. He apologised, saying that he knew that Ray didn’t remember faces and names well but that Ryan was faster at the register and they both wanted for their shift to end already so the faster they finished and let Barbara and Blaine take over, the better.

Ray smiled, as he had to, at the costumers and tried to act like he had any idea who the drinks went to. He placed them at the centre of the table instead, telling them to have a good day.

As he was walking away, he heard Ganondorf laugh, informing one of her friends, “Gavin got Zelda latte art. Triforce for the win, man.”

“It’s pretty,” Zelda muttered.

Followed by, “Michael, stop staring at my Cappuccino.  _Michael_. Michael,” a sigh, “do you want it?”

“Yes,” came the immediate answer.

Ray had never felt so proud.)

 

* * *

 

It was one of the late days, ones Ray usually quite loved, loved the dark lighting (they had multi-coloured  _fairy lights_ , of course Ray was going to use them when he could), the quiet atmosphere and the regulars.

Overall, it was the most peace he got in a whole week.

Zelda came by one of those days, a laptop bag over his shoulder and a tired smile accompanied by even more tired eyes. “Hi, large Cappuccino with whole milk, please,” Zelda ordered, much to Ray’s surprise, “and, if you want to, with latte art? The last one was pretty awesome.”

Ray nodded and, when Zelda started to move away towards his usual table, asked the question that had been burning his tongue for a while, “Can I get a name?”

“What?” Zelda whirled, before registering the question, “I  _was_  wondering why I was the only one to get served in person, sorry about that. Michael.”

Michael opened his laptop when he sat down, quickly getting lost in writing an essay (or so Ray assumed) and Ray didn’t much care for shouting when the Cappuccino was done so he gave Michael the drink in person, as he had the last times.

Watching the guy light up at Tuxedo Mask (an art Ray’d worked tirelessly towards when he started learning), Ray decided he was pretty okay with this.

Okay with fairy lights, a mostly empty cafe, a DS hidden next to an Espresso machine and Michael’s laptop lighting up his face in an unnatural way.

(“Hey, Michael,” Ray started on another such evening, Michael coming around most days to work on his… essay… thing. Michael hummed, announcing that he was paying attention, so Ray continued, “What are you even working on?”

“I’m working on my application for Columbia University. Has to be done by thirteenth of January. Ten to twenty pages is a bitch to write though.”

“Oh,” Ray paused, “I kinda assumed you already went to college.”

“Nah, man,” Michael shook his head, “I work as an electrician. Always wanted to be a writer though.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Ray grinned, “now, want me to draw a dick on a Latte for you?”

“ _Fuck yeah_.”)

 

* * *

 

On December 9th, Michael burst into the coffee shop with a rushed out, “When do you get off work?”

Ray blinked and Ryan laughed quietly, still managing to make a Vanilla Latte with soy milk while paying Michael the utmost attention. Ray was envious, having to have stopped working on theCaramel Flan Latte (nonfat) in his hands to even register what Michael was on about.

“Why?” he asked, cautious, getting back to the Latte.

“Lara Croft and the Temple of Osiris came out today on Xbox One and guess who got two copies, one of them for your lazy ass,” Michael grinned.

“Dude! I love you.”

“Alright, alright,” Ryan laughed, “you two go out on your date. Lunch rush is over, I can do this alone. Ashley comes by soon anyway.”

“I love you too, Rye,” Ray blew an exaggerated kiss towards the older man.

“While I do know of your overpowering love for me, the feelings are mostly unrequited. Now leave,” when Ryan made a shooing motion towards Michael, he continued, “no need to look so shocked, I can be nice sometimes.”

Ray had a feeling that wasn’t why Michael was frozen but he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. Ryan probably knew that too though, being the guy with  _two_  degrees.

Sometimes it was better to play dense.

 

* * *

 

“ _Michael_ ,” Gavin, formerly known as Link, whined, “Michael.  _Michael_.”

Michael sighed, “What, Gavin?”

“Pick  _faster_ , or stop being such a coquet.”

“That is  _definitely_  not a thing.”

“Oh, no,” Ryan butted in on the conversation in front of the counter, while Ray made the drinks he  _knew_  the two were going to pick, “that  _is_  a thing.”

“See!” Gavin pointed triumphantly at the barista, “ _he_  agrees with me!”

“Not really in use anymore though, the masculine version died off hundreds of years ago.”

Gavin inflated, sighing, while Michael laughed, “Ryan, I don’t think this asshole has ever introduced himself. Gavin Free, massive dickwad, don’t be swayed by his accent and looks like so many others.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Gavin griped again.

“ _Michael,_ ” the older imitated back, stopping mid-whine as his Hazelnut Macchiato (whole milk) was placed on the counter, “thanks, Ray.”

“Yep, and Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate, nonfat, no whipped cream for Gav.”

Gavin sighed in relief, “You are literally my favourite person.”

Ray bat his eyelashes, ignoring Michael’s affronted face, as to not laugh, “You’re just saying that, you big teaser.”

Ryan laughed, “Hey, no flirting at the counter.”

“But Michael gets to do it,” Gav huffed.

“Life’s unfair,” Ryan grinned slyly, “though I could think of a few-”

“Yeah, okay, this is getting weird,” Ray stepped in, looking towards Michael pleadingly, “please go before he starts talking about the people he kills.”

Michael saluted.

 

* * *

 

On January first, Ray didn’t see Michael around. He didn’t even see Gavin or Lindsay (also known as Ganondorf). It was… disheartening.

He’d gotten so use to the company of the three best friends (though he was  _fairly_  certain Lindsay and Gavin were dating but he never saw the point in asking, their private life didn’t really concern him), being without them was  _odd_. Even Ryan, who Ray got a lot of shifts with now, mostly Ryan changing around, seemed to be more, well,  _dull_. Not in personality but in… spirit, Ray guessed? He wasn’t really the best at emotions, explaining how he felt was hard, explaining other’s emotions even more so.

But, anyway, Michael didn’t show up on the first. Or the second. Or the third. Nor even the thirteenth. Ray was only  _slightly_  lonely, keeping himself immersed in video games when possible.

It was on the fourteenth that Ryan finally snapped. In a non-murderous way,  _that_  had yet to happen. “You know where does Michael works?” he asked after their shift had ended, Burnie and Ashley, the dream team, already pleasing customers.

“Just that it’s an electric company,” Ray shook his head, “why?”

“No reason,” but Ryan smiled his ‘I’m going to kill everyone in this video game, I don’t care if they respawn’ smile so Ray had every right to be concerned.

He tried to ignore it.

 

* * *

 

Ray had been playing a round of Tetris when his doorbell rang. He paused, half because he didn’t even know he had a doorbell, half because he didn’t even  _know_  that anyone who was not his family knew his address and they wouldn’t show up at,  _sheesh_ , three in the morning. Ray rose, pausing his game of Tetris (he was  _so_ going to lose the moment he unpaused), bare feet padding against the wooden floor on his trek towards the door.

A quick glance through the peephole later, Ray opened the door, a confused smile on his face at the sight of Michael Jones.

He was more disheveled than usual, hair a mess and huge bags under his eyes, looking more nervous than Ray had ever seen him. “I, uh, sent all my necessary papers for college and I’m so nervous I feel like I’m gonna throw up, want to play Halo?” he rushed out, hands wrangled together.

Ray opened the door wider in response, stepping back and not regretting his decision a bit when Michael shot him a grateful smile.

(“How did you even find my apartment?”

“Ryan called all of the electric companies in NYC to get in contact with me to ask where the fuck I’d been. He told me your address before he hung up.”

“Don’t we have, like, a shitton of those?”

“That we do,” They smiled at each other at their mutual friend’s concern.)

 

* * *

 

Ray was surprised when, even after Michael had admitted his application, he still showed up for the late night ‘sessions’ they had with a laptop and got lost in typing just as much. When Ray asked about it, sipping a Blonde Roast, Michael answered with a “this is for fun” and didn’t talk more of it.

Ray couldn’t stop though, curious as hell, “Is it fiction? You want to take fiction classes, don’t you?” Michael nodded, distracted.

“Is it, like,” Ray paused, “a novel you’re working on?” Michael nodded again, deleting a whole paragraph.

“What’s it about?”

“Technically, you.”

Ray blinked. “What.”

“I was thinking about novel ideas, right? And I needed a main character and I wasn’t going to base it around  _myself_. So I went with a person I knew well.”

“What does fictional-me do then?” Ray sat down on Michael’s table, making the man huff.

“Other than save the world with his friends?”

“Adventure?”

“Sci-fi adventure.”

“Like Guardians of the Galaxy?”

“Nah, more like,” Michael paused to think, “Cowboy Bebop. But with more world saving.”

Ray laughed, “That’s a name?”

“Yeah, man, I have to make you watch it, it’s a fuckin’ classic.”

“Sure, as long as you bring the popcorn, I’m game.”

Michael smiled, “How about you get me some more Latte though?”

“So bossy. You’re not my real mom, you know.”

“Would never want to be. Having to care about your ass? Must be exhausting.”

“Hey, my ass is great.”

Ray could have sworn he heard Michael mutter “don’t I know it”, but he  _was_  certain that Michael eyed his ass when he moved towards the counter and grinned, victorious. Michael had good taste.

 

* * *

 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Ray sighed.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

While Michael had been working on his admission he hadn’t minded the sound of a keyboard being used much.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

Now, though, with Michael high-strung, nervous and irritable, he tended to backspace more than actually write.

_Tap._

It was  _insufferable_.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

“ _Michael,”_ Ray called, frowning when the man didn’t answer him. “Michael,” he repeated, to no avail.

He stood, the tapping still ongoing and Michael was, for the first time in  _weeks_ , actually writing. Ray didn’t like it though, he could almost  _see_  the bags under Michael’s eyes grow the more he wrote. When was the last time this guy  _slept_?

“Michael,” he began, next to the older, who still ignored him. Ray frowned, concerned, and placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. Michael jumped, swearing all the while.

“Okay, dude,” Ray moved his hand away, “time for you to go to bed.”

“No, no,” Michael shook his head, “I feel like writing again, I need to write all I can while it’s still here.”

“And that’s not going to do you much while you’re, y’know,  _collapsing_.”

Michael still shook his head, eyes not moving from the screen and Ray found himself sighing, “Is your apartment closer to here than mine?”

“Yeah, I live practically next door, it’s no big deal. Let me finish this sentence.”

“No.”

“ _Ray_ ,” Michael frowned, moving his eyes away from the screen and towards Ray for the second time that  _whole day,_ “you can’t boss me around.”

“But I  _can_  tell you when you’re being unreasonable and not caring about your health,” Ray moved closer, trying to save the file but Michael’s face was too close to him, did this guy  _seriously_  just block Ray’s line of sight with his face? Fuck, how tired  _was_  he?

“Says the guy who lives on fast food,” Michael scowled.

“ _Michael,_ ” Ray warned, “save the document.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find yourself in a-” Ray was cut off when Michael, the fucking tiredass he was, tried to stand up, forgetting just how close Ray’s face was to his own.

What a way to kiss the guy you’ve liked for two months, Ray thought, what a fucking shitty way.

Michael fell back, leaning against the back of the chair with dilated pupils ( _seriously_ , how tired was this asshole?), looking shocked out of his mind. Ray used the opportunity to save the file and shut down the laptop. Michael blinked a few more times and slurred out, “Can we do that again?”

“As soon as we get you home.”

Michael rose up so fast he got dizzy and fell back in the chair.

Ray decided that the night had gone on too long.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Ray,” Michael coughed out the next morning, while Ray was working his shift, “what exactly  _happened_  yesterday? I’m not certain if what I remember was a dream or not.”

“If you saw us kiss twice, reality. If you saw some fucking, fiction, unfortunately. Though I think that if it was jackin’ off, it might also have been reality, not even you can resist this hot bod.”

Michael laughed, though his tone was quite nervous, “Listen, I’m  _really_  sorry.”

“What for?” Ray hummed, making Gavin’s favoured hot chocolate and Lindsay’s favourite coffee, Michael having chosen to not have anything that morning.

“For kissing you? Like, I’ve always known that you don’t like me so-”

“Wait, what?” Ryan asked the question on Ray’s mind, looking as baffled as Ray, “what the hell would make you think  _that_? This guy has the hugest crush on you I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen Meg and Ashley.”

“He does?” Michael’s eyes widened, mouth falling open in a perfect  _o_ , “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Ray scoffed, “now, explain.”

“I kinda assumed you, uh, were dating Ryan.”

Gavin choked on air while Lindsay laughed. Ryan glanced at them, amused, and turned back to Michael, “Nah, sorry, taken.”

Ray sighed, ignoring the behaviour of his friends and focusing on the lost expression on Michael’s face, “I’m kinda on my shift right now but how about we go and play video games at yours when I get free?”

Michael had never looked happier.

(He looked the same shade of happiness when he was informed of his accepted status at Columbia University. Ray could have sworn he heard him mutter “I got everything I wanted this year”.)

**Author's Note:**

> Extra scene:
> 
> Michael had known the barista for exactly a month and a half. And during that month, Michael learnt quite a lot about the younger: his favourite video game was Tetris (which he was  _excellent_ at, Michael wouldn’t go as far as to say a  _master,_ as Lindsay was always fond of saying), his Gamerscore was high as hell (did he even  _have_  a social life? Michael ignored the fact that he was essentially the barista’s social life), he ate extremely unhealthily (to the point where Michael just started going over to his house to make dinner, completely done with his friend) and much, much more, as friends tended to learn.
> 
> There was one small, itty-bitty thing Michael didn’t know though: the barista’s name.
> 
> It wasn’t his fault, of course. The younger had never introduced himself and Michael always forgot to ask him for a name. And, as such, a month and a half later, Michael  _still_  didn’t know his friend’s name (one that was starting to become one of his closest even).
> 
> Yeah. Michael wasn’t proud of it  _or_ himself for it.
> 
> The day Michael found out, he was drunk off his ass at a random bar that Lindsay liked and Gavin hated with his guts (“too many people he knew” apparently, whatever  _that_  meant, the dumbass never spoke with anyone but Michael and Lindsay).
> 
> “Linds,” he slurred, “ _Linds_ , it’s  _unfair_.”
> 
> Lindsay grinned, as she tended to do while drunk, “What is?”
> 
> Michael ignored Gavin’s yell of “Life!”, focusing on Lindsay so he could tell her just  _unfair_ life was ( _goddamn it_ , Gavin), “ _You_  know the cute barista’s name and the cute barista knows  _my_  name and Gavin knows the  _other_  cute barista’s name but refuses to introduce himself but  _I_  don’t know the cute barista’s name.”
> 
> Lindsay blinked, not registering the fast uttered words in her drunkenness, “Okay, asshole, slow down.”
> 
> Gavin proudly announced “I know why he’s sad!” and Michael was almost hopeful for a second but then he continued with, “He needs more bevs!” Which, yes, he  _did_ , but he was trying to tell Lindsay something  _important_.
> 
> “Okay, give me a sec,” Lindsay paused, placing her face on the palm of her hand, “you don’t know… Ryan’s name?”
> 
> Michael started to nod but paused, remembering the blond, “the other one.”
> 
> “But Ryan  _is_ the cute one.”
> 
> “The  _other_  cute one.”
> 
> “Oh, you mean Ray?”
> 
> “Ray?” Michael slowly nodded, “yeah, that’s a cute enough name for the cute one.”
> 
> “The other cute one,” Gavin absentmindedly corrected, downing another shot.
> 
> “Keep it in your pants, Gav,” Michael scoffed.
> 
> “But Lindsay said the same thing!”
> 
> “She has  _dignity_.”


End file.
